He waited a minute more, impatient. Something should’ve happened by now. He tried to picture what was going on inside the restaurant, but the menu offered too many choices. Was Sonia watching them prowl for food? Had Knit Cap spotted Sonia and forced her to surrender?
Just when he was about to give up and go inside, the door swung open and the woman from the 4Runner’s passenger seat dashed out of the restaurant. She ran not toward the SUV but across the parking lot. A shot rang out and the woman ducked behind a pickup truck. Knit Cap followed her outside, searching between the vehicles trying to find her. A gooey brown substance ringed her mouth.
“Come on out, bitch, or I’ll have to kill Hubby,” Knit Cap shouted. “And then I guess you’ll have to drive.”
Sonia must not have made her move yet. That meant it was up to Arjun. He hesitated a moment longer, hoping Sonia would also come outside and solve the problem for him. Knit Cap worked her way around the rear of a car and came up alongside the rusty sedan. When she saw the little deaders inside, she knocked on the glass to torment them.
“Little fuckers,” she said.
They snarled and pressed their faces and tiny hands against the window. Arjun saw a way to avoid shooting the woman.
He aimed his rifle at the sedan’s window and fired.
The glass shattered and the nearest deader launched itself forward and latched onto Knit Cap. A second one wriggled through the opening, cutting itself on the folded fragments as it, too, snagged Knit Cap’s denim jacket. Knit Cap cursed and slapped at the snatching hands, dropping her rifle.
Arjun emerged from his hiding place and ran toward the sedan. “Hold it,” he said, aiming at her.
But her attention was focused on fending off the filthy little deaders. The third zombie, smaller than the other two, squirted out of the window and onto the asphalt. It scrabbled toward Knit Cap like a spider. Arjun realized he’d miscalculated.
Before he could reach the woman and kick the rifle away, they were on her, biting and clawing and pulling her toward the ground. Arjun backed away before they noticed him, but the miniature monsters were too intent on their fresh prey.
Sonia burst out of the McDonald’s with the man who’d been driving. “Louise!” he called.
His wife came out from her hiding place and they ran toward each other, hugging fiercely as Knit Cap’s screams gave way to gurgling whimpers. Sonia realized what had happened and came to Arjun.
“I couldn’t do it,” he said, shaking his head.
“You did do it,” Sonia said.
The two of them walked over to the couple, with Sonia scanning their surroundings in case the noise had aroused more deaders.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” the man said, tears of gratitude in his eyes. His dark hair was thinning and he wore wire-rimmed spectacles. He had a professorial aspect, his shirt tucked into his pleated khaki trousers.
“You’re welcome,” Sonia said. “But let’s get out of here before the little fellows get hungry again.”
Arjun dared a glance at Knit Cap. The smallest zombie chewed on her face, drawing back with a nub of nose between its lips. It sucked and smacked on the morsel as if it were the thing’s first taste of fresh meat. The others burrowed headfirst into the woman’s abdomen, unspooling skeins of pinkish-gray intestines. Arjun fought down a knot of nausea.
“Where are you headed?” the woman asked. Her eyes were pale blue, highlighted by mascara, and she even wore freshly applied lipstick. Despite the harsh conditions, she’d made a commitment to her appearance.
Sonia hesitated as if unsure of trusting them and then said, “We’re staying in a house near here.”
Arjun noticed she hadn’t offered any more information than necessary. The two were apparently unarmed, and they were clearly relieved by their rescue. They looked harmless enough to him. But he let Sonia set the boundaries.
“So are we!” the woman said, and her friendliness seemed genuine. “You should come join us. We have a small group and all the comforts of the Twenty-First Century. Electricity, water, warm food, toilets, and hot showers.”
“Uh, you’re not from Promiseland, are you?”
“No.” She pointed over toward the remnants of Knit Cap’s corpse. “She was. Had this weird mark on her hand. We were scavenging in a pharmacy when she got the jump on us. She forced us to drive her back to our place, except she wanted to stop here first. Said she was dying for a chocolate shake. She stuck her face right in the powder when she found it.”
“Did the mark look like an eye with the number three in it?” Arjun asked.
“Yeah,” the man said. “But we weren’t going to betray our friends. I was going to wreck the car and try to get the jump on her.”
“How far is this place of yours?” Sonia asked.
The man and woman looked at each other. “You saved us,” the man said. “And if we don’t learn to get along, we don’t have a future anyway. I’m Marty and this is Louise.”
After introductions, Sonia said, “How many people are with your group?”
“Fourteen,” Marty said. “We’ve been together since Good Friday and haven’t lost anybody.”
“You’re doing better than us,” Arjun said.
“I’d like to meet them,” Sonia said. “But can you drop by our house first so I can tell the others?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Here comes a car,” Kit said.
“I see it,” Bill replied.
“So do we hide, or stick out our thumbs?”
“I don’t think we’ll bump into anybody as cool as Chuck and his family. But I don’t want to be entering any of these houses in the dark.”
“We don’t have anywhere to go. So one direction is as good as another.”
Bill was exhausted, and he didn’t think he could fight another zombie if the need arose. They’d been walking since fleeing the attack on the work crew. Bill wanted to get as far away from Promiseland as possible, but Kit was right: they had no plan.
And having no plan when you were traveling in deader country was bad news.
The approaching vehicle was an SUV, its headlights burning even though dusk had yet to settle across the land. Bill and Kit stood by the side of the road and waited.
“Keep your hands out so they can see we’re no threat,” Bill said. “Maybe they’ll just pass us by.”
“Screw that.” Kit ran into the road and toward the SUV, waving her arms.
The SUV’s engine gunned and then it slowed, coming to a stop ten feet away from her. It idled for a moment as Bill wandered over to her, thinking Crazy kid.
The passenger-side door opened and a woman in a gray sweatshirt got out. Bill didn’t see a weapon, but he had no way of knowing how many people in the vehicle were armed.
“Are either of you sick?” the woman asked.
“Not yet,” Bill said, before Kit could give a sarcastic reply like, “Yeah, sick of deaders.”
“You have marks on your hands.”
Bill wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. The woman’s tone gave him no hint. “We were at Promiseland for a day.”
“Why did you leave?”
“Because they’re a bunch of freaking psycho Nazis,” Kit said. “And Reverend Ingram’s on some kind of Big Brother trip or something.”
“What she means—” Bill began, before he saw the woman’s smile.
“So, where are you headed?”
“Wherever you’re going, we hope,” Bill said. “We don’t have any food, weapons, or any idea where the hell we are.”
“Hop in,” she said. “We won’t bite.”
“Not yet,” Kit said. “But we’re all just zombies waiting to happen.”
The rear door opened and another woman stepped out, inviting them inside. Kit entered the SUV and climbed into the back, while the other man in the rear seat slid over so Bill could sit behind the driver. The group introduced themselves—Marty at the wheel, Sonia in the passenger seat, Louise and
Arjun in the rear. Bill gave a selective summary of his and Kit’s adventures since the outbreak, but the group seemed most interested in their experience at Promiseland.
Bill told them about the mandatory prayer, the loudspeakers, and the cult-like atmosphere, as well as the recent zombie attack. Sonia relayed their early stay at the shelter. Marty and Louise reported on the government’s involvement in Ingram’s discriminatory policies and his sudden rise to the presidency.
“We’ve got a shortwave radio at our farm,” Marty said. “We get news reports but most of the broadcasts are the official propaganda station of the Eye and Three, Ingram’s name for his mark.”
“I never had a vote,” Louise said. “And we’ve always paid our taxes.”
“It’s not like we really have a country anymore,” Arjun said.
“They took down the American flags at the shelter,” Bill said. “They put up white flags that have Ingram’s mark on them. The Mark of the Beast.”
“I don’t believe it,” Sonia said. “I mean, I do, because it’s happening, but it’s unbelievable.”
“Not if you buy into the whole ‘apocalypse’ thing,” Kit said. “Ingram made it sound like the zombies are part of the Biblical prophecies.”
“We picked up a report that the United Nations appointed him Secretary-General,” Marty said. “Apparently he put together emergency protocols for a bunch of countries and promised them military support. So whatever they’re doing in Promiseland, they’re doing all over the place.”
“I can’t believe this shit would fly in Russia and China,” Bill said. “No way would they invite the United States onto their soil. They’d rather get eaten first.”
“But what if there’s no more United States?” Arjun said. “Our old enemies might see it as an opportunity to seize more power. Or else consider us no longer a threat.”
“You’d think we’d all get on Team Human and focus on the zombie problem,” Sonia said. “But everybody’s got a different agenda.”
“What’s this?” Marty said, slowing the 4Runner. A row of headlights approached from out of the gloom.
“Don’t stop, whatever you do,” Louise said. “Those things look big.”
The first truck rumbled past them, followed by several more. They were military transport trucks. They were followed by four or five Humvees with mounted machine guns. An armored troop carrier brought up the rear of the column.
“Mobilizing,” Sonia said. “They’re heading toward Promiseland.”
“Looks like they’re gearing up for a major offensive,” Arjun said. “Who knows whether they’ll be gunning for zombies or gunning for us?”
It was full dark when Marty turned off the highway and headed down a narrow dirt road into the forest. To Bill, it seemed like they were headed toward the edge of the world as the trees grew thicker, but after a couple of miles they emerged onto a level, open stretch of farmland. A couple of barns and smaller outbuildings stood along a rise of meadow, and a series of fences separated the various sections of garden and feed lots. The dark silhouettes of horses and cows were visible under the moonlight, which reflected off the tin roofs of the buildings.
A series of wind turbines stood behind the farmhouse, which was bright with electric lights. Marty stopped the 4Runner at a gate, and after a moment, a man carrying a rifle came out of a small shed and opened it. He waved them through and they headed up the driveway to the house.
“We keep guards out around the clock,” Marty explained. “We go in shifts, four on for four hours. Keeps everybody fresh. We’ve only had a couple of attacks, but we’re able to stomp them out pretty quickly. It might be a different story if we get swarmed by a horde, but this property’s got four hundred acres and most of the surrounding land is undeveloped.”
“How did you find it?” Sonia said.
“It kind of found us,” Louise said. “We knew the owners, C.J. and Sherry, from the local farmer’s market where we shop. But we had no idea all this was out here. When the Klondike Flu hit, they were worried about their livestock so they called the vet. We were at the vet’s office getting shots for our dog, and one thing led to another. C.J. thinks the flu didn’t hit hard out here because we all tend to keep to ourselves.”
As Marty parked beside the farmhouse, a couple of people came out on the porch to greet them. Bill was relieved that these people didn’t seem so uptight that they felt the need to pack firearms all the time. Maybe it was because they’d avoided real trouble for the most part, but it was a vivid reminder how far civilization had fallen in a week.
Bill, Kit, Sonia, and Arjun were welcomed inside and were surprised to find a lavish meal laid out on series of picnic tables in the main room. The rustic farmhouse was at least a century old, with thick wooden planks and a high ceiling supported by stripped timbers. The atmosphere was almost festive, as half a dozen people sat eating at the tables. Two women perched in rocking chairs, one plucking the banjo and another accompanying on an acoustic guitar.
An old man in coveralls and sporting a shock of white hair beneath his straw hat, easily twenty years Bill’s senior, introduced himself as C.J. “Help yourself to some food,” he said in a low, sonorous voice. “Plenty for all.”
“I could eat a horse,” Kit said, then realized C.J. was looking at her funny and added, “Not one of yours, of course.”
C.J. chuckled and winked at her with a sky-blue eye.
“Are you sure you don’t mind us crashing your place?” Sonia asked.
“Everybody gets here for a reason,” C.J. said. “The God of my understanding tells me it’s the right reason.”
Marty led them to a wash basin in the kitchen, where he used a hand pump to draw some well water. “Plenty of fresh water in the aquifers here,” he said. “The wind turbines and a few solar panels provide all the power the farm needs, and there’s a gas-powered generator as a backup.”
“I can’t believe all this is only, what, twenty miles from the city?” Kit said.
“A little farther,” C.J. said. “This land used to be subsistence farms after the Civil War, before the colleges grew and everybody started moving to the big cities. Blacks and whites scratched out a living side by side, all of them poor as the dirt they worked. My great-grandfather was a sharecropper here and eventually bought a few acres back when land was cheap. Then he kept adding on to it as more people gave up farming, and pretty soon all this passed down to me.”
“Marty said you haven’t had any deaths here,” Sonia said. “Hard to believe this many people avoided the infection.”
“A couple of people caught the flu,” C.J. said. “My own Sherry took down with it real bad for a few days, but she bounced back on Easter and has been fine ever since. Still, we keep an eye out. Doc told us it might be dormant and can pop up again at any time.”
A buxom woman wearing a calico apron entered the kitchen. “That’s why I tie him up every night, so he don’t roll over in the bed and chew my nose off,” she said. “Of course, the way he snores, I wouldn’t mind if he took my ears.”
C.J. playfully snapped a hand towel at her. “Folks, meet my wife Sherry. That status might change tomorrow, if she keeps up like this.”
She gave a mirthful laugh. “We’re both too old to start over, so pardon me if I’m not a bit scared.”
Bill was pleased to meet such delightful people. Everyone at the ranch seemed relaxed and joyful despite the imminent threat of extinction. He wondered if they were simply in denial, but Marty and Louise had expressed a comprehensive understanding of the flu, the zombies, and even Reverend Ingram’s political rise. The shortwave radio probably kept them better informed than most. Maybe these people had rapidly accepted the change and settled on a new way of dealing with things.
“You said you had a doctor?” Arjun asked.
“The vet I told you about,” Marty said. “We’re stocked with antibiotics and antivirals, as well as plenty of first-aid supplies. She can’t perform heart transplants out here or anything
, but broken bones are no problem.”
“Easy for you to say, Marty,” C.J. said. “Wait until we kick up a Virginia reel and get it going and you start tripping all over your boots doing a do-si-do.”
When the newcomers settled at the table, they were given china plates and served fried chicken, cornbread, green beans, and mashed potatoes with fresh goat’s milk. Bill reckoned it was the best meal he’d ever eaten in his life, even better than Chuck’s hamburgers. Kit didn’t speak because her mouth stayed full until Sherry brought out a blueberry pie. They were introduced to others in the room, but Bill couldn’t keep all their names straight.
After they finished, Bill offered to do the dishes but Sherry said, “First night, you’re a guest. Tomorrow you can pitch in on the chores.”
“And, boy, do we have chores,” C.J. said.
Bill realized they were expected to stay. He was moved by these people’s generosity and hospitality. He couldn’t help feeling there was a catch, but he decided he was just being cynical. Marty and Louise gave Bill and the others a quick tour of the house, including the room with the shortwave radio. The radio was on and despite the atmospheric interference that caused static, Bill recognized the voice.
It was the same as the one that broadcast through the loudspeakers at Promiseland.
After listening a few moments, Sonia said, “He’s reading from the Book of Revelation.”
“The most schizophrenic gobbledygook ever set down on paper,” Marty said. “‘Seven angels’ this and ‘ten horns’ that and four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a fucking pie, and all these people throughout history twisting themselves into knots trying to fit it into current events.”
“It’s not too big of a leap for people to take zombies as a sign of the End Times.”
“I don’t know,” Kit said. “I never went to church much, but if you’re looking for an Antichrist, Reverend Ingram would fit the job description. He’s already got the Mark of the Beast going, and he’s got half the world snowed into thinking he’s the answer to all their problems.”
“Whatever he is, we can’t do much about it tonight,” Marty said. “Come on. Let’s get you folks bedded down. We’ve got His and Hers bunkhouses out back. We can talk more tomorrow.”
Revelation: A Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Thriller (Arize Book 2) Page 19